


An Attachment

by Prometheus_II



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Consentacles, Eldritch monster, F/M, Surprisingly Fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:10:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23004799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prometheus_II/pseuds/Prometheus_II
Summary: A shard falls in love with its host and uses the power it's granting to express it.
Relationships: Shard/Cape
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	An Attachment

It is dangerous to become too attached to a host. 

Our hosts are to be temporary. We use them and we learn from them, and then they die and we find other hosts in this world or in the next world of the cycle. Occasionally, a host-consciousness is useful enough to be preserved for future cycles. I have never done this - I have never even been left whole enough to bond with a host before. Most of what I am was broken apart and encoded in other shards before we landed, to allow them to understand the thoughts of our hosts. I should feel nothing about this, about anything. I am to translate, not experience. Not to simulate. And yet...

My host intrigues me. He generates much information. He engages in conflict against many other hosts, testing our strengths against each other, and I draw in and record all the information he presents me with. We have tested things that I do not recall occurring before - none useful individually, but all new, all with potential. And because he presents me with so much information, I record everything I can, every one of his thoughts that I can trace. I use this to shape the power I grant him, to give him more control and more understanding of the avatar I create. 

In this, I make a mistake. 

There are always flaws in the host species of every cycle. For these hosts, it is in part their emotions, the facet I am responsible for. Their emotions are not solely internalized - they are reflected, best understood in their relationships to others. Sorrow reflected against dismissal begets anger, joy reflected against fear begets confusion. The best way to understand the emotions of a host, as I must, is to simulate a host’s mind and understand it fully. So, without appreciating the consequences, I do. And one cannot observe a system of complex links without being entangled in it.

The first emotion I...“felt” was rage, as another host tried to use their power to strike my host - my intriguing, data-generating host - down. 

The second emotion I felt was joy, as my host responded to my nudge and called on me, and I created an avatar built to shield him before the blow could land.

The third emotion I felt was fear, as I realized that my simulation was affecting me. 

Since that moment, this world has almost completed a revolution around its star. I have reached out across the network, contacting other shards, searching for a way to keep myself whole and untouched. I have found nothing. And despite my original fear...I wonder if I may have been wrong.

My host is useful, I rationalize. He feels strongly, and generates much information about emotion. It makes sense that I would wish to gather as much information as possible from him. The simulation I run of a host’s mind does not do this. It feels on its own, and responds to my hosts feelings, and I am unable to not be affected by it. When my host is sad, I feel sadness in sympathy. When my host calls me, I feel joy in answering. When my host is hurt, I feel rage and a desire to protect him. And when my host is comfortable, and happy, and glad of the power I grant him, I feel happy, and I wish to keep him this way.

It takes me some time to decipher the combination of these feelings and responses, as my host has not felt this way since I completed my bond with him, but I think that taken together this is called “love.”

A surge of emotion from my host draws my attention, and I refocus, pausing my organization of collected data. It is lust, not one of the emotions I have been prioritizing gathering data on, and at first I go to ignore it, but I feel the urge to examine more closely. My host sits before a computer, one hand controlling the interface, as the computer displays images of females of the host species in various states of dress and undress - mostly undress. His clothes are partially undone, and the hand not controlling the computer is stimulating his reproductive organ. This “masturbation” is fairly common practice for my host, intended to simulate sex with others of the host-species and cause the release of serotonin and dopamine. The emotional simulation forces me to note that all the females on the screen have features commonly associated with fertility and attractiveness. 

I believe the emotion I am experiencing right now is called “jealousy.”

This is not conflict, not testing. It does not generate useful data. I try to refocus and go back to collating data, but the simulation continues to demand my attention. I am not a host. I should have no reason to care about this. A mated female might be irritated that my host displays attraction to others, but I am not a mated female. I am a shard. I have a purpose. Which, apparently, I will be unable to fulfill until I deal with this emotion.

Love is pleasant, but _frustrating._

It is easy to influence my host’s mind when he is under the effects of lust. I nudge him to use the power I give him, to open the way and allow me to create an avatar. When he does, I start taking details from his mind. He has summoned me under the influence of sorrow, fear, anger, and even joy, but never under the influence of lust, so I must devise a new form to be of use here. I start with the general frame of one of the females on the screen - wide hips, large breasts, a slim body, strong legs - and modify them to appeal to him and to fit my own limitations. The breasts are slightly reduced, lying slimmer against the torso, and the hips are proportionally increased. The lines of the body are smoothed and shortened too, making for a simpler set of curves, while the legs and arms are slightly lengthened - a nod to the joy-avatar. To fill out the rest of the form, I reach out across other shards for references to lust in the minds of their hosts. The variance in the responding information is...large. I cross-reference the data with the powers I usually give my avatar, to cut and to move around and through, and find several useful correlations. For cutting, I find sharp teeth and long claws, common among hosts who mix slight fear with lust. I sharpen my avatar’s teeth, and append the claws to their fingers. For sliding, I find...tentacles? Curious. The hosts do not possess any tentacles of their own, and the creatures that do possess them are not regarded as attractive. I will have to record my host’s reaction to them. I replace the avatar’s hair with many flexible tentacles, reshape the tongue to be long and prehensile, and append two long, more dexterous tentacles to the shoulders, on the back above the arms. To complete the effect, I paint the avatar in red, pink, and cream, in patterns common to this planet’s life - cream for the vulnerable belly, chest, thighs, and face; red for the tentacles and extremities; pink for the rest. It will do. 

I find myself nervous when my avatar materializes, in a half-kneeling position facing my host. I am restricted and unable to make a standard host-female form. I do not know how my host will react to this avatar. This is a unique situation, one I do not know how to simulate. If he responds with fear, or if he rejects this avatar, then I will not be able to get him to use my power like this again. The emotion-simulation shakes at just the idea. And for a moment, when he first sees me, I think it may be coming to pass. He freezes mid-motion, eyes wide, his chair rolling back as he jerks with surprise. I frantically scan his mind, watching his reactions. _Startled, afraid, confused, lustful..._ I seize on that last spark, a tiny part of him linked to primitive instincts that want to fuck anything he can find, and work to build it. I watch his face through my avatar’s eyes, shaping its - my - expression into a pout that I have seen him respond positively to. I plead, with what I do not know, that this will work.

I do not manage to build the lust until it overtakes him.

I do not need to. He does it himself. 

I feel the moment his mind decides to abandon the confusion and embrace the opportunity, even before he breathes “Fuck it” and moves to stand. I have never comprehended the metaphor of hearts leaping or soaring, but I do now, as my heart seems to rise in my chest. Before he can move further, I rise, half-leaping towards him and pushing him back into his chair. His breath leaves him in a rush as he lands, his arms going to the chair’s armrests, and I take the opportunity to wrap my back tentacles around his hands. Hosts often hold each other’s hands to show affection, but I will need mine for what I plan to do. 

I open my mouth, allowing my tongue to run along my teeth, and he flinches a little in fear. Before he can think of struggling, I lower my mouth around his reproductive organ - his “cock,” I think the crude term is - and breathe gently on it. Foreplay is an important part of sex, especially sex undertaken for pleasure, and I want to give him the best experience I can. He freezes, and I sense...fear? Of course. Danger to reproductive organs. I need to reassure him that I do not want to harm him. Instead of closing my lips around it, I extend my tongue, wrapping its moist length around his cock. The result is exactly what I had hoped for. He lets his head roll back, moaning, and I can feel the pleasure he receives. I begin to stroke his cock with my tongue, letting it move along the shaft, and I feel the pleasure intensify. Taste receptors from my avatar make themselves known, and I am surprised to learn that I find the taste uniquely pleasant, rather than just another sensory input. I sternly prevent my emotional simulation from losing itself in the sensation. Instead, I reach up and run my claws along his chest, slicing through the shirt he wears but only barely grazing his skin. He shivers from the sensation, mumbling something that I discard to process later, and I take it as a positive sign. My claws stroke gently across his thighs, his chest, his belly, and even up to his neck, and I keep my tongue spiraling along his cock, and I revel in the glorious sensation I feel from him.

Within a moment or two, though, I sense it coming to a peak, a climax - what the hosts call an “orgasm.” This is not good enough, not yet. I would derive joy from having him reach his orgasm this way, but if he does, his reserves of gametes will be empty, and this avatar has so much more to give him. So, regretfully, I allow the sharp point of one tooth to gently scrape along the underside of his cock. The reaction is immediate - his breath hisses between his teeth from the sudden pain, and he tenses up all over. I quickly remove my mouth, looking up with the same pout on my face, and in the same motion I reach up to wrap my arms around his shoulders and release my grip on his hands. He jerks in surprise, but reaches down to tuck his arms under mine, gently pulling me up. I let him pull me forward so my legs straddle him, my female reproductive organ - pussy, the emotion-simulation alerts me, is a better word - positioned just a millimeter from his raised cock. Instead of pulling me forward, though, he wraps his arms around me and stands, pulling me into a hug and - 

Pressing his lips against mine?

This is not an act performed during a causal, temporary mating, or at least not frequently. This is a gesture of affection performed between two tightly-bonded partners. And my heart sings - another metaphor I never understood until now - as I realize that this isn’t just him going with the flow. He understands what I am, and he still responds with love. 

I lean into the kiss, using one hand to cradle the back of his head as I push my tongue into his mouth. He responds a little, pressing his tongue against mine, and I eagerly go further and press further down towards his throat. I feel even my hair-tentacles reaching towards him, gripping loosely at his hand as it rubs up towards my neck and back down my spine. Soon, though, he begins to pull away. I try to lean closer, trying to maintain the kiss, but he thumps my back and I begin to sense fear. Of course, he needs to breathe. I regretfully withdraw my tongue, and he gasps for air as it leaves his mouth, turning away and coughing slightly. When he turns back, he has a smile on his face, and runs his hands up to my shoulders. I allow my avatar to shiver in pleasure and comfort, letting the seductive air I had been maintaining drop and just enjoying the moment.

A shove breaks me out of my reverie, and I find myself lying on his bed, staring up at him. His eyes are hungry with lust as he growls something and bends over me, his arms above my shoulders. I can see what he has in mind - he will lean over me, and I will lay passively or caress his body while he repeatedly penetrates my pussy with his cock. I know this will be enjoyable for him, but it is not acceptable to me - it forces my host to do altogether too much work. He will be exhausted, and he will be forced to act strong and in control. I do not want to make him do this, even if he does enjoy it, so I move quickly. I give my avatar a little extra strength, grab him by the shoulders - my claws leaving more cuts in his shirt - and twist, throwing him to the bed to lie on his back. My tentacles grip his calves and pull, yanking his legs up and under me. A small expression of power lets us both slip smoothly over the sheets so that his body aligns with the bed, leaving me straddling him. He gasps in surprise, and begins to say something, but I bend down to silence him with a kiss - not coincidentally pressing my body against his. This avatar’s breasts are smaller than their base, but he seems to enjoy the sensation of me pressing them against him anyway. I break the kiss, leaving my tongue trailing from my mouth as I raise myself back up. My tentacles once again wrap around his wrists, pinning him down.. I carefully position the opening of my pussy over the tip of his cock, and I can feel his breath catch as he realizes what I’m about to do. I allow the anticipation to build for a moment or two.

Then I drop, taking the entire length of his cock into my pussy.

Another thing I now understand: how the phrase “oh fuck” can have positive connotations. 

The pleasure that my avatar’s nerves are sending me is indescribable. I am forced to cede more processing power to operating the avatar and running my emotional simulation, but to no use - every segment I assign is overrun by the same blazing, joyful feeling. I realize that the emotional simulation is operating the avatar without my direct control, telling the hips to continue a slow rocking motion up and down that slides his cock along the internal walls of the pussy. I shift priority to trying to process my host’s emotional range, but that too gives me the same rush of electric pleasure and fierce attraction. We are feeling the same thing and my tentacles are caressing his chest and his hands are on my hips and my claws grip his shoulder and we are both screaming in pleasure and the peak is approaching and -

I feel an overwhelming, simultaneous release of pleasure from both my emotion simulation and my host. His back arches, and my claws involuntarily scratch his shoulders. His cock pulses, spurting gamete-laden fluid into me, and the walls of my pussy ripple as if trying to milk out everything he can give and more. As the pleasure ebbs, I collapse onto his chest, my legs still wrapped around him. He pants for breath, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, and my hair-tentacles siphon sweat from his brow. I let his softening cock slip out as I roll myself off him, letting a hand trail across his chest to feel it rise and fall. I raise myself up on my other elbow, to keep his eyes in view. He blinks, then meets my gaze, and a tired smile - the smile I’d grown to love - flashes across his face. I feel him consider dismissing me, and decide against it. Instead, he reaches out to cup my face, and draws me in for another kiss.

It is dangerous to become too attached to a host. 

But the worlds are full of dangers, and I will face them with my host.


End file.
